Scars
by Kiterie
Summary: Kakashi's view of his scars.


Title: Scars  
Rating: hmm Mature probably for this one but not because of anything sexual  
Pairing: none yet but later KakaIru  
Charactes: Kakashi (but mentions Sakumo, Obito, Yondaime, Rin, Gai)  
Warings: If you stil don't know the Yondaime's name, and hmm suicide (no not a death fic)

AN (aka author rambling) : This came to me in a moment of inspiration. It's dedicated to Alienpoki on y-gallery because well I meant to write her a Kakashi ficlet for her birthday (May 11) but couldn't come up with anything that had Gai in it because KakaGaiKaka is EW! so this is the closest I've come because it does mention Gai. But that said any sequels I write are dedicated to Lecanis since the suggestions for them were hers.

Scars

Every shinobi has scars. It was a simple fact that they all, eventually, learned to accept. They accepted it because a scar formed when a wound healed. At least, that was the theory. Scars were lesson's learned because, if you had them, then it meant that you hadn't died. The ridges and white lines that trailed over their bodies were constant reminders of success, even in failure.

Some shinobi wore them proudly, wanting others to know they understood pain. The more gruesome the better, at least that's the way it seemed sometimes. It struck fear into their enemies as it shouted that nothing their enemies did would dissuade them. Scars were their marks of courage, like small lines scratched away to mark the days when they lost track. It showed a passage of time when the days blurred together.

Some hid them, if they could, and usually for the comfort of others. Civilians liked to pretend that the shinobi were perfect. They liked to think that they never failed. That they never made mistakes. And, seeing the scars reminded them that this wasn't true.

Kakashi had once tried to count them, out of some morbid curiosity. Four marked the palm of his hand. And, when he removed his gloves to study them, the memory flashed across his mind. The wooden handle had been so slick with blood that he could gain no purchase on the weapon. He could see the blood still gushing as he pulled the blade from his father's gut.

There were two on his face, although most never saw them; and, those who did, only saw one, never realizing it was two. He, however, never forgot.

One, trailing down each wrist, were the only scars he'd inflicted on himself. It had felt surprisingly good to watch his blood dripping onto his sensei's still warm body. He had felt absolutely miserable, however, as he'd looked into his team mate's tear-filled eyes while she tried desperately to save his pathetic life.

It was strange to see that same look when their roles had been reversed. The twenty-three pale lines that barely showed on his skin couldn't compare to pain he felt at the sight of the one on her chest. "Will you cry for me 'Kashi-kun?" She'd asked him the question with her last breath and had never heard his answer, had never seen the tears in his eyes. He hoped she had known, or that wherever she was, she could see them now.

Fourteen marked the first time Gai had proved to be a man worthy of being called his rival. He'd been surprised at how strong the strange man had gotten while he was away on mission after mission that first year in ANBU. Admittedly, Kakashi had left Gai with more than thirty, but no one else had landed that many hits on him since Minato had died. So, despite having technically won Gai's challenge, the copy-nin had been forced to admit, at least to himself, that the man deserved his respect. Something that was more hard won than a taijutsu battle. Although, Gai had also won a great deal of those since that day.

He'd given up counting when he'd realized that some scars couldn't be seen. Some wounds ran so deep that they never healed. However, they managed to leave their marks both on his soul and on the stone. As he stood there, reading names and forcing himself not to count them, he wondered who's idea it was. After awhile, the masked shinobi decided that it might have been the foolhardy idea of somebody who didn't understand that names were etched in the minds of those who survived. Or, maybe, it was a shinobi who needed to give those scars a form of their own, so that some day the wounds would heal.


End file.
